


You Feel Good (Though You Shouldn't)

by sugar_and_shade



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21712039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugar_and_shade/pseuds/sugar_and_shade
Summary: Here is a little something I wrote on Tumblr, and decided to post here.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	You Feel Good (Though You Shouldn't)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this and other fics @ angst-and-ashes.tumblr.com

“You feel” — Page paused — “quite good, I admit.” 

He swallowed. Plant softly nipped at his neck.

He said next, through a breathy moan: “Though you _shouldn’t_.”

He did not know or understand what this was. 

_This_ , being the gradual affair that he began to have with the well-built blonde whose curls he loved to grab. Their sessions usually occurred after gigs and shows, and were filled with nothing less than a deep, unspeakable passion each and every time.

 _Maybe we drink too much,_ Page mused _. Do too much fucking coke._

Or maybe he had suppressed his longing for Plant for the longest time, and the vodka and coke just happened to unleash them.

What began as innocent, playful and experimental kissing on the edge of Page’s bed progressed into the slapping of flesh. 

Moans, loud and uttered without shame. The occasional cry of “I love you!” from Plant — almost always during hard and painfully slow sex — would ring out into the air, too.

His declaration of love, assumed to be merely a byproduct of the moment, would never be discussed among the two, however. Instead, they’d chat over the prospect of a new song, girls, or anything that had nothing to do with what just happened among them.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Plant probed, having grown tired of concealing this secret. A secret, he thought, it should be no longer. “You shouldn’t deny yourself of feelin’ good and randy, baby.”

Inquisitive fingers grazed against his crotch, slowly stretching the satin of Page’s trousers. 

He bit back a moan, eyes shut.

Whether it had been the whiskeyed stupor that made his mind milky, or something that had tormented him subconsciously until that very moment, Page needed an answer. Even if this had not been necessarily the time to ask. “What you said about loving me, is it true?”

“Of course!” Plant guffawed, as if Page had asked him a trivial question whose answer had been ridiculously obvious. “Whether you love _me_ is the _real_ question.”

Page heard a quick zip of his trousers, followed by a soft tug of the cloth from his narrow hips. 

And when he felt the sudden sensation of his dick being encompassed by a moist warmth being the singer’s very useful mouth, he blurted: “Fuck, y _es._ ”

No longer could he pretend.


End file.
